My Flower
by Jamberine
Summary: "Am I entrancing you so, young Flora? I will happily wear a bag over my head if it ensures you aren't distracted by my disarming good looks." Third submission for the QLFFC.


**A/N:**

**And heres the third submission. I'm really sorry its late. Gotta love having a horse that gets colic as soon as he eats mowed grass. My poor, delicate flower. ;)**

**Anyhoo, the prompt this time was any Slytherin pairing, as long as it's rare. I think it's safe to say this one's rare, as this is the only submission on FFnet that has a Rodolphus/Flora pairing. After writing this, I suddenly love them together.**

**Word count: approx. 1421**

**Enjoy. Review, please. :) Tell me if I should expand on this story.**

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"You sneaky monster!" Flora burst into Rodolphus Lestrange's office at the ministry, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

Said man didn't lift his head from his paper work, instead opting to hum out a quiet, "Yes, dear?"

"Don't you , 'yes, dear,' me, Mr. Lestrange." Flora Carrow scowled at the older man, dainty hands falling to rest at her hips. "You tricked me!"

Lestrange's eyes finally turned upwards to gaze at her; dark, blue and piercing. His expression betrayed nothing except a practiced look of quiet boredom.

Flora resisted the urge to fidget as the older man stared at her, a quietness settling about the room that was all but blaringly loud. His eyes were piercing into her; in a manner that was hot and sticky, and made her insides squirm in a way that only a woman who liked a man beyond platonic friendship would understand.

Finally, he exhaled, and purred, "Well, well. My little snake has grown a tale and claws. How brave you must be, to barge into my office and speak so bluntly."

Flora swallowed thickly, her heart pounding in her ears.

Indeed, such actions were not natural to her. She was much more accustomed to trickery and subtle manipulation than frankness. "Certainly, Mr. Lestrange, but you of all people would know that behaving in such an underhanded manor only breeds trouble. I've spent enough time in Azkaban to know that speaking truthfully and to the point raises better results."

Had she not known him better, Flora wouldn't have caught the tightening at the corners of his mouth, nor the way his hands, which had been steepled in front of him as they spoke, dropped behind the safe confines of his desk.

Everyone knew that Rodolphus Lestrange had spent the good part of ten years in Azkaban, after the final battle at Hogwarts had finished. Everyone also knew that, as a highly regarded friend of Lucius Malfoy, he had been granted an early pardon as the result of a generous donation to the Ministry.

What others didn't know, though, was that Lestrange had grown contemptuous of his former master whilst in his most recent incarceration. The repeatedly public shaming led by his psychotic wife, and the constant, near suicidal demands on his person during the final months of the Dark Lord's reign had caused a seed of doubt to be planted into the older man's head.

That seed had only been allowed to fester and grow as his time in prison came to a close.

Now? Well, now, Flora only knew that he liked to live quietly. Of course, he still appreciated the finer things in life. By no means had he become frugal, but he didn't make a spectacle of himself or socialise nearly as much as he was known to in the past. Of course, he was still bigoted, as was she, and he hadn't lost his pig-headed confidence either. He simply knew that, if he were to enter the limelight once more, he would come under fire.

Flora respected him for making the decision to step down in society and live a quiet, private life from now on.

"You are quite correct, my dear," Rodolphus' words broke Flora out of her musings in time to see him rise from his chair and move around the desk between them. Slowly, he walked towards her, staring her down, his head slowly tilting more towards his chest as he grew closer to her, so that they could both maintain eye contact.

He stopped mere inches from her, and Flora all at once became acutely aware of the way his fine clothes accentuated his broad shoulders, the entrancing smell of his cologne, and the way his short, well-cut beard had fine hints of copper colouring in the strands.

Her gaze on his beard inevitably drew over to his mouth; thin lipped and sinfully engaging. She watched as a slow, almost lazy smirk quirked his lips, and forced her gaze to flicker upwards so that she might watch his eyes and deduct what he was thinking.

"But," Rodolphus Lestrange spoke once more, "you must admit that it is rather fun."

So addled were her senses, that Flora had completely forgotten what they were talking about. "What's rather fun?"

A rare chuckle escaped the older man's lips, his hand raising so that he could trail his fingertips down her soft cheek. "Am I entrancing you so, young Flora? I will happily wear a bag over my head if it ensures you aren't distracted by my disarming good looks."

Flora tutted at him, eyes raising to the ceiling in a rare plea for patience. "Heaven help me from pompous men."

She smiled at him then, showing the older man that her words were a mere jest. In secret, she rather enjoyed his teasing, not that she would ever admit that to Rodolphus.

She also wouldn't admit that she was completely smitten with him, since he had tricked her into accompanying him to the annual Ministry Gala next month.

And she most certainly wouldn't admit that she greatly enjoyed the fact that their game of cat and mouse over the past three years had been the only thing that kept her working in this particular section of the ministry - the Goblin Liaison Office.

But she would never tell him these things, lest his head inflate with even more male ego.

"I was responding to your words about being truthful, Miss Carrow," Lestrange reminded her. "You said to me that being sneaky only leads to trouble."

The hand at her cheek curled around the base of her skull and pulled her closer. Carrow's heart immediately jumped up into her throat as his head dipped.

When he didn't kiss her, like the ravaging sex god she suspected he might be, Flora grew disappointed.

A sneaky smirk quirked his lips upwards once more. "Don't you think that a little trouble is invigorating, Miss Carrow?"

Flora trembled beneath his gaze, heart thundering in her ears, tongue swelling inside her mouth. How Rodolphus Lestrange, of all men, seemed to render her limp and useless was beyond her.

She breathed out, and noticed how his eyes flickered to her own lips, before returning to gaze at her. "It seems that you cause as much trouble as you can, Mr. Lestrange."

"Oh, yes," he purred, head dipping further, so that he was close enough to brush their noses together. "If not for my enjoyment, then only to watch you grow flustered, young Flora."

Oh, he was so frustrating! Standing right in front of her, entrancing her with his words and dark voice, and barely a breaths distance away, but he still wouldn't kiss her.

She was a good girl. Her mother had taught her well. She would never be the first to initiate any type of contact. That was the man's job, but she was damned if she wasn't making it ridiculously easy for him to do so!

It was then that the older man decided to pull away from her, his hand dropping from her neck and stepping away, looking nothing but unruffled, as if he had simply been picking lint from Flora's shoulder.

She exhaled shakily, frustrated beyond believe, and breathed, "You are an awful tease, sir."

Rodolphus simply smirked at her, waving a hand in her direction, only for Flora to hear the faint click of the door opening behind her.

She took his queue to leave, brow furrowing in annoyance, but with a secret thrill thrumming in her chest as a result of his retreat.

She wasn't two strides out of his door when she heard his quiet, "Until next time, my flower."

Flora felt the sudden and unavoidable tick in the corner of her eye at the awful name. She turned immediately, wide-eyed, like a frantic beast. "Did you just-"

The door slammed in her face, but not before she caught a glimpse of Lestrange's trouble making smile. She lunged for the door, only to find it locked and unable to use a simple, '_Alohamora_,' to open it. She fumed for a few seconds, eye twitching spasmodically, before Dobson, one of her co-workers, passed her with a curious, if not slightly scared look on his face.

Once he passed her and was out of earshot, she pressed herself close to the door and hissed through the shallow crack in the frame. "I will make you pay for that, Lestrange. Mark my words, you will know suffering."

The only response Flora received was a muffled laugh.


End file.
